Vampiric Lone Wolf Blues
by JenosIdanianHorn
Summary: So, story, story....... What would happen if another vampire joined the crew of the Hellsing Institution? An intense tale about the newcomer, how he fits in, and the real meaning of the second life known as Vampire.
1. An Indomidable Will

Author's Note: Ok, so, my third FanFic work, and I wanna finish it! It's so frustrating to start on something you've really got a hold on, and then school to just BAM! I forgot what the other two were about. And this one... well, actually, I already started on a third one before this one, and my computer decided to implode. So I lost it. So, this is the second third one. And like all my other creations, I have some things to say. People complain; they say "No Original Characters", but I think that's bull. I mean, if it's gonna be YOUR brainchild, you might as well make it your own. I don't understand how a person who has never written anything complain about it so much. Now, I don't mean to harp on those critics out there who are fellow authors, and who are only trying to help. Those guys are great! But what I (and my fellow authors) don't appreciate is a person who can whine so much with out saying crap! Ok, complaints aside, I'm gonna do what I want, and to the best of my ability. I don't get too serious, getting people to preread it and things like that, I just love stories, and I hope that you enjoy mine. So, without further ad-ooo (or _adieu_), I am at least a little proud to present my unplanned, staight-from-brain-to-keyboard work.

_**Vampiric Lone Wolf Blues**_

_Chapter 1: An Indomidable Will_

Black crosses lined the hallway. Outlined by the faint moon outside, the windows cast little shadows, small replicas of the crucifix that vampires loathed so much. These caricatures, though, could do no harm, even to a fledgling demon such as Seras. Dashing through the dark and dank hall, she almost feel the moonlight flitting past her with every glass she passsed. It was a strange sort of beauty, the moonlight that she hunted by, intervaled by the shadows she lived in. Was such a life, the life of darkness, the life of the vampire, so unfathomable to that child she was, a lifetime ago? Monsters, horrors, nightmares; that's what they were. The day she laid eyes on her Master, Alucard, the last human fear she would ever feel gripped her gut, the fear of a child before the jaws of a beast. And now? She was the abomination that horror books were made from. The reborn.

_Focus, Seras. Now is not the time for remeniscing. The objective is still alive._ She quickened her pace, and powered through a sharp turn. What should have been a routine ambush had turned into a ridiculous pursuit. Hellsing had identified and confirmed another freak lurking in the dense jungle that was London. Hellsing troops had stormed in, and theoretically locked down the building. Seras had acted as point, being the ideal one to take a hit or two. She had entered the room in question, and kicked down the door. Waiting inside was not a blood-crazed hybrid, one turned by unatural means, but a calm, cold, sensual woman, not old by any means. She was a fair-skinned, well-endowed, red-eyed seductress, and for a second, the whole complement of Hellsing soldiers hesitated. Even Seras was stunned at the scene before her. The chestnut-haired woman stood up, her violet dress exposing shapely legs, observing the intruders as if they were nothing, merely a fly on the wall. Seras was ready to doubt the validity of the intel, when Seras caught a glimpse into her eyes. They were the deepest blood-red she had ever seen, and at that point, Seras knew that what they were facing was not some low-life freak, but a true-blooded vampire, experienced by the look of her. Seras almost caught a hint of Alucard's cockiness in her stance, but she didn't give herself the luxury of finding out. Leveling her cannon, Hallconnen, she loosed her initial shot. The demon moved aside with ease, and the hole in the wall created by the blast was a portal, an escape for the Siren. Seras flew after her, matching the twists and turns she was taking throught the alleys of back-street London. Seras had managed another shot off at her prey that forced it into another building. Seras kept up the chase, while the human soldiers were left behind, trying to re-organize the capture.

Seras knew that she was gaining, slightly. She could smell her enemy, the scent growing with each moment. With her hightened senses, she could hear the footsteps, light and sure, faintly around each corner. And somewhere, in the back of her mind, she could almost see, the sheath dress flowing around, the female vampire simply cutting through the air. As the next turn approached quickly, Seras got ready for the shot. She loaded a wide-area shrapnel shot into her weapon, and braced the cannon on her right arm. She changed her step, rotating slightly to the right, and leapt into a world-class baseball slide. Her left leg extened out, and her right elbow ready to land, she planned to take a shot upon contact with the wall. As the corrider to the right of her came into view, her leg hit the opposing wall, and cushioned her impact. The instant she stopped moving, she pressed the trigger, and fired from her hip towards the target. The purple streak whisked left around the next corner, but Seras had no intention of catching her with a direct hit. The resulting blast contained many pieces of frozen mercury, which would spread like BB's with the shockwave. Seras heard a shriek of pain, and knew she had been successfull. The mercury shards, when they made contact with even cold vampire flesh, would melt, and enter the bloodstream. For a human, that small amount of mercury would warrent a trip to the hospital. For a vampire, even the smallest bit of it would sear the insides, and a large enough dose would be fatal. In this case, it was enough to slow her prey down even further, and maybe create a chance for a decisive blow.

Seras catapulted herself down the passageway, and the chase continued. As she ran, Seras fumbled around her belt for the right shell. A small debate went on in her mind, between a fast-moving, piercing shell, or another large-blast shell. She decided on the latter, wanting to stun her once more before she delivered a final blow. The next shot was a high-pressure, silver dust shot, which released a dense cloud that expanded with the initial explosion. She loaded the round into the chamber, and cocked the gun. This pursuit would end soon. Seras was interested in the situation this would create. A natural, and possibly old, vampire that had been silent and hidden for so long would be accidentaly discovered and taken care of by a young, upstart vampire, one that was still reluctant to drink blood. Her Master would be very amused. _No, Seras, don't count your change just yet. The mission isn't complete yet. Finish the mission. Silence the target._

As Seras rounded the next left, she spotted her adversary, only halfway down the hall. Seras made the decision to take the shot now. She spread her legs, leveled the Hallconnen, and let loose another screaming shot. It whizzed by the pursuee, who almost laughed at the inaccuracy, when the bullet impacted, and let loose the millions of tiny silver shards into the air. She screamed, as that element which she so hated seared her skin, burning at her eyes and mouth. Stumbling blindly though the haze, she spotted the gaping hole the cannon blast had left in the wall. The red-eyed vixen pierced through the veil, and found herself outside, standing in one of the many back-streets of London. Seras tried to follow, but the toxic shards in the air were too much for such a young vampire. She reloaded in desperation, pulling out her piercing round and slamming it into the barrel. She brought the sights up to her eye, but could see nothing through the fog. She let her sense of sight go, and practiced what her Master had taught her. _See with the third eye. Feel, Sense, Know the world around you. You are connected with all that is around you. Know where it is you want to hit, and Know how you must fire._ Seras let out a sigh, and prayed with all of her heart that this shot would hit. As the gun kicked back, tha feeling of success grew back, and she could feel, she could know that she had done it.

That feeling was sucked away, as she heard a loud bang, and fire erupted from past the cloud of silver dust.

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The violet vampire stood there, after resisting the blast resulting from the bullet's impact with the vehicle, and watched as pieces of demolished car fell from the sky, like flaming snowflakes. To her, it was a beautiful sight, the destruction, the smell of death. She knew that that kind of luck wouldn't last, and probably wouldn't hold up even once more. To have someone, a human no less, be the unwilling shield against that Hellsing brat's blade was ridiculous, but the truth was forced upon her, when she looked down and saw his torn body lying against a streetlight. Blood was slathered all over, and it invaded his nostrils and mouth like water, threating to drown him. It was not as if he wouldn't perish without the blood cutting off his air. He was missing a chunk of flesh from both the right side of his stomach, and from his left arm. A large piece of twisted metal impaled him onto the pole, right through the center of the chest. His legs were mangled, burned to a crisp, and leaking his precious blood all over the sidewalk. It was an intoxicating sight for the bloodsucker, and she could not resist one final drink.

She straddled the young man, who appeared to be quite handsome. Although much of his face was covered with the scarlet life, a few licks reavealed a relatively unscathed face, with strong features, contorted into a scowl from the immense pain he must be feeling. _Absolutely beautiful._ She could not have an envisioned a more savory situation, aside from the fact that it would be her final feast. It was almost erotic, the smell of death, the face before her, the exhiliration of the moment. She lapped up ounce after ounce of his lifeblood, and with each taste, her appetite grew. Such sweet blood. It was pure, almost virgin... _Virgin?_ With that thought, she could not help but allow that sensual smile to appear. _He would have made an excellent subordinate. A choice pick._ But with her own end drawing near, and his own life slowly fading, it seemed irrelevant whether or not he would be suitable to serve under her. After all, he was dead...

Only near death. With a cough, and a convulsion, he miraculously opened one eye, and found that demonic beauty staring him in the face, his own blood dripping from her mouth. She could not believe he had the strength to do even that small act. _Humans are more resilient than they seem._ She continued to drink from the wounds that were spewing his blood all over the ground. Groggily, he saw and felt the heat of the flames so near to him. Through his right eye, he saw a wavering world around him, and he knew that this was no dream. This was real. It felt like a slide. Like a mudslide. A waterslide. Bloodslide. He was just leaving, just falling away from the familiarity of the world. And he realized it.

"I'm... dead."

The violet-clad mistress worked her way up to his ear, and whispered into it. "Dying, boy, but I'm surprised you aren't just a pile of ash now. Boy, you are one lucky son of a gun."

"..."

She grinned again, ever so slightly. "Dissappointed? Ha, you humans, you think you are eternal? You think there wouldn't be an end? Well, the evidence is here." She ran her finger across his arm, and she showed him a finger coated in blood. "This is yours, and it's spilling all over the place. You know what happens when it all goes, don't you? You fade. You leave. You die."

He gritted his teeth. "... I won't."

"Ha! And just how do you plan on stopping it? You can't even move!"

The boy raised his eye, like a cyclops, into the woman's dark-red stare. The woman was amazed. It wasn't going away. She expected to find a broken spirit, a mind that would fade with the body, but the flame inside him wouldn't go away. It stayed there, violent and unmoving. That will, that drive to survive. Truly, he would have made a great vampire.

"Help...me."

"Ha!" She pulled his rag doll body up to her face, by the hair, and bored her gaze into his. "You want to live the life of a ghoul? Wandering aimlessly, a servant without a master? Eternal nothingness? You'd be much better off dead. I can't help you. I can only turn the innocent, the pure, you understand?"

"...Help..."

She grew frustrated with him. A soul that refused to yield under the impossible was just a foolish one. Not brave. "You don't get it! You cannot have had a woman! You are not virgin, you are not worthy!" But that small thought crossed her mind again, and her voice shrunk. "You aren't... a virgin, are you?"

"..."

She carresed his face, toying with the hope that he might not be lost after all. She might be able to pass on her blood after all. But she needed an answer. "I need an answer."

"...Y...Ye-" His confirmation was interrupted by his hacking cough, but it was enough. In her purple garments, the woman, no, the devil astride him, took his head into her hands. In her countless years of second life, she had only turned a few, and those were only the most worthy. She was a matriarch of her own family, but her children had perished so many years ago. Now, it was her turn, and her bloodline was destined to end, but with this strange turn of events, she finds that same strength, that same worth that she saw in her brood, and more. Even in death, this man refused to yield. If there was a human with which she would lay down her blood, it would be one like him. She could only pray, as she sunk her teeth into his scarred and singed neck, that he would not squander this gift. As her parting gift to the world, she would live on in him, and make him her own. As she tasted the nectar ebbing away inside him, she gave him that gift, that precious gift that so few possesed. The blood of a demon, the blood of tainted life, that would carry him away from this death and hold him bound to the world once more.

The transfer complete, the nightwalker craned her head in victory. She could feel the eyes of the hunter on her head, and she did not flinch. It was the end, and there was no escaping it. She could only hope that, when the world and life had faded, there would be more for her than the endless darkness. She hoped that she could find substance outside of time and space. She hoped, prayed, and knew that there would be more. She just... She just knew it.

And Seras let fly her final warhead, and the vampiric beauty, dust to dust, dissappeared from the earth, leaving behind her violet garb.

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When Hellsing arrived, they hit the scene as a tornado would touch down upon the ground. Humvees blocked of the fire from both sides, and experts arrived with them to douse the fire. Helicopters covered the airspace above, patrolling the rooftops and the rest of the sky for spies or reporters. Footsoldiers filled up the buildings adjacent to the crime scene, allowing no one to enter that back street. The familiar yellow tape formed a large perimiter, lined with many Hellsing guards. And Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing stepped off of the copter that had whisked her here, and entered the area, accompanied by Alucard, who followed nonchalantly, not even bothering to use the door. He simply touched the building, and became it, the walls acting as his eyes. He saw the destruction caused by Seras' pursuit, and he was pleased with the tenacity he saw, as she left nothing but dust in her wake.

Integra entered the final ring of Hellsing soldiers, who were keeping a close eye on the man sitting there, metal embedded in his body, eyes wide open, staring down the barrel of Seras' Hallconnen. She had not left him unattended for a second. Hesitant about executing him, as her Master probably would have done, but uneasy with his existence all the same, she kept a steady hand on the trigger, ready to quell any sudden moves.

Integra placed a hand on Seras' shoulder, and Seras acknowledged her prescence, but did not let up her aim. Integra continued to where the man sat, hands relaxed at his sides, dried blood streaked all over his body. A docile vampire was a tricky situation, especially one born so recently from such a sticky situation. Integra had pondered over various courses of action, but had ultimately rested upon one. She could not allow him freedom, however innocent a victim he might be.

Integra approached him, and kneeled down so she could face him. She saw that he was a fine looking young man, with a tough face, suited for a frown, but not altogether unpleasant. His eyes were already that piercing scarlet-red that signified his vampirism. His hair was a tangled mess, curls circling around and around, jet black curls that fell across his forehead.

Integra spoke first. "I presume you know what you are now?"

He squinted at her, as if she had spoken some bitter sarcasm. "Dead at least once."

She glanced at the spike impaling him. "That's rather obvious. Would you like to remove it?"

"I would have, but the trooper here told me I couldn't move, not even an inch. Pretty cold, if you ask me."

Integra gestured to Seras without looking, and she lowered the cannon away from his head. "There, better?" Seras spoke in a bitter tone.

"Yeah, thanks." The boy grasped the metal, and without significant effort, he slid it out from his chest. "Man, that feels weird." He tossed away the piece like a toy, then looked back up to Integra. "I should be dead."

Integra smirked. "You are dead, technically. You do not posess the human description of life, which would be pulse, hunger, warmth, that sort of thing. You are a walking dead."

"You mean like a zombie?"

"No, not a zombies are mindless ghouls, that walk and eat either without direction or under the commmand of some master. You are still your own man... in a manner of speaking."

The boy turned his head and spat. "Hmph. Don't talk in riddles." He ran his hand across the two holes in his neck, which were now scabbing over. "I know what this is. Vampire." He glared at Integra, with his newly colored eyes. "I am a vampire. I'm not some child that you have to play word games with me. It's hard to believe, but it's here." He took his hand off of his neck and pointed to Seras. "And she's the same as me. I can see it, I can smell it in the air. There's a feeling in my gut that tells me she's like me."

Integra nodded. "Yes, it's true. You are vampire, now. A nearly extinct race of creatures that walk the night, that drink human blood, and that hide in the shadows of civilization. Don't be fooled though. It's not like the movies. You are more than some ridiculous portrayal of a bat-man."

The man looked doubtful, but he nodded to Integra. "Ok. So now to the hard part. What happens to me? It doesn't take a genius to figure out that you're not just gonna let me walk free. Little Miss Trigger Happy over there's makin' sure of that."

Seras wiggled the cannon in his face. "I don't appreciate you talking to me like that..." A wave of Integra's hand silenced her.

"You're right. We cannot just let you walk the streets as you once did. As a vampire, you must drink blood to stay strong, and incidents of citizens being bitten would not sit well with anyone."

"So tell me then... you gonna kill me?" He keenly observed Integra's reaction to the question. She didn't flinch, but she was a little too slow in answering. "Huh." He pushed himself up off the ground, and stood before the kneeling Integra. "I'm sorry, but I just can't allow that."

Integra stood up to face him, a stolid expression on her face. "And how would you stop us?"

He clenched his fist, and advanced on Integra, stopping a centimeter from her face. Seras made a move to stop him, but Alucard calmly placed a hand on her shoulder, restraining her. Seras relaxed, and placed her trust in her Master. If he did not think that Integra was in any danger, than she wasn't.

"That woman... that woman that was killed... she saved me... you think I'm gonna let that kind of sacrifice go without a fight? I don't care if you drive a stake through my heart, I don't care if you poison me with silver, I don't care what you do! I will not just stand here to be mowed down by some sadistic firing squad!"

Integra held his gaze for a few seconds, then turned her head. "Don't worry, we have no intention of just killing you. That would be wrong, since you really have done nothing to warrant it. However, your very existence poses a threat to the general public, and as such, you will be taken into our custody."

The man visibly gritted his teeth, and stepped in even closer. "I won't waste my life rotting in some cell. I already told you, I'm not gonna waste this life!" And with that, he turned his back to Integra. "I'll run. I swear to God, I'll run forever if I have to. I won't let you just roll over me like this. I'll go down fighting, down to the very end."

Integra hissed. "I admire your vehemence to survival, but with that kind of attitude towards our God, you won't make it very far."

"I don't give a damn about any God you can conjure up. God abandoned us humans a long time ago. We're left here to fend for ourselves.

Integra looked as if she was about to draw her sword and decapitate him, but she held her composure, and turned on her heels away from him. She approached Alucard, and whispered something into his ear. He nodded, and smiled as he approached the man. Integra turned back and watched as Alucard made a grab for the man's arms. He turned around, and met Alucard's grasp with his own. For a few seconds, the man held him back, but slowly Alucard bent his wrists and arms backwards, and when they reached their breaking point, the bones snapped loudly, and the man yelped in pain. Alucard placed a foot onto the man's spine, and pushed his torso forward while stretching his arms back. The man screamed, struggling against Alucard's grip, but to no avail. Integra signaled to a trooper, who produced a simple-looking pail of water. She brought it forward, placed it on the ground before him, and began to pray in Latin, crossing the water over and over again as she spoke. The words had a nails-on-a-chalkboard effect on both Seras and the man, as the Scriptures exterted their power over the vampires. Alucard seemed unfazed by the words, though, and contintued to stretch the man out. Integra finished the blessing with a powerful Amen, and dipped one finger into the now-holy water, and raised it up to the man's chest. His shirt was torn from the shrapnel, and his bare skin was exposed. The killing wound he had recieved from the metal spike had closed up, but had scarred quickly and heavily. Integra traced her finger in a circle on his skin, and he shrieked unhumanly to the skies as the holy liquid burned his flesh. Integra finished the first circle, and started on a second, larger ring. When she had trace both circles, she started on a pentragram within the first circle, re-chanting the blessing prayer as she tatooed the symbol onto his flesh. He writhed and writhed, but nothing could free him from Alucard's iron grasp. Once done with the star, she drew two T-shaped symbols with little tally marks running down them, and an H fashioned with similar marks.

With the preparation complete, Integra re-moistened her finger, and started on the words. With precision, Integra inscribed words in an ancient, runic alphabet, chanting as she went along. All around the outer circle, line and curve after line and curve were made, until she reached the other end. She then moved to the space between the two circles, and drew, in plain English, the words "_Hells Gate Arrested_", and "_And Shine Heaven Now_" on the left and right sides, while reciting words in the same language. "May Hell recognize this mark and repel it's bearer back. May Heaven bless this mark and purify it's bearer." On the top side of the middle circle, she wrote "Hellsing", and said, "May this mark and it's bearer belong to the Holy Protestant Knights, Hellsing." On the bottom, she wrote "_Gott Mit Uns_", and repeated a German-sounding prayer following the writing.

Integra then dipped her finger into the water for the last time, and moved inside the pentagram, her victim still screaming. For each of the five spaces between the five star points, she drew a runic number, from 5 to 1, and with each mark, she sealed his fate more and more. "I hereby forge the first seal, the seal of Soul. May the bearer of this mark give his soul to the Holy Protestant Knights, Hellsing." For each number, a different aspect of the vampire was sealed, and placed under control of Integra. "... the second seal, the seal of Blood." "... the third seal, the seal of Mind." "... the fourth seal, the seal of Purpose." "... the fifth seal, the seal of Body." And with the final seal, Integra stepped away from the struggling man, and removed the bucket of holy water. Alucard released the man's broken arms, and let him fall prone on the ground. Seras stood there, in horror, as the brutal ritual of control was concluded. Integra, after washing her hands, returned before her new vampire. She did not even bother to kneel, but instead commanded in her strong, authoritarian voice. "Now, rise, vampire. You are now under the command of the Hellsing Institution, the Hellsing Family, and my direct orders. Rise."

With reluctance, the mangled man rose from the ground, onto his knees. He groaned, and he pulled his arms back into place. He rose to his feet, and the seared mark of ultimate control, carved forever into his flesh, was visible in black scarring on his chest. Seras was speechless, as she made sense of what had taken place. This man, this demon that was now kin to her, who had been willfull in his moments before his capture, now submitted to the simple commands of Integra. Seras realized that the mark he bore on him was the same mark that Alucard wore on his twin gloves. Seras had never fully grasped the reasons for such symbols, but she thought back to what she knew about Integra and Alucard. _Alucard served Integra, because her father had 'tamed' him. Could it be... that those marks were the restraints that held Alucard bound to Integra?_ And as the new Hellsing 'recruit' piled into one of the Humvee's behind some Hellsing troops, Seras could only imagine what kind of feeling it was, to be forced to obey in such a way. She could not help but feel sorry for him, for undergoing such an ordeal as this. Life, death, and imprisonment. This man had everything he had taken away from him in a midnight. How must one feel to go through that? That was the question that echoed in Seras' mind, as she rode back to the Hellsing manor across from the newcomer. His head was hung low, so that she could not see his expression, but Seras knew that he must be infuriated at such treatment, frustrated beyond words at his inability to liberate himself, and ultimately vengeful aginst Integra for her crimes against him. Seras knew that Integra was decisive, but to slap this man into a cage just because of his vampirism? It was too much for one night. Morning was coming soon, and she would have to retire within her coffin until the next night. She had the feeling that tommorrow night is when it would really start. Tommorrow night, she would learn all she wanted, and more, about this stranger, this rough, stolid individual, who was now chained to Seras, Alucard, and the rest of Hellsing by fate.

Tommorrow night, the newest vampire under Hellsing's control would officially be born.

AN: Phew! I wrote all of this in a few hours. Impressive, I hope. Now, I know that some of you are gonna have some early doubts about my interpretation of the Pentagram. I don't think that it is too far-fetched that the Pentagram on Alucard's glove is any more than the restraining device that he periodically releases ("Releasing Restraint Level 5 thourgh 1") or something like that. Now, I don't know what language the outer layer of the Pentagram is in, and for a simple fanfic like this one, I'm not going to dissect the Internet to find it. I would like to know what "Gott Mit Uns" means, and I'm guessing it's in German, but don't harp on me if I'm wrong.

Now, to me, while writing, this first episode seemed a bit sadistic, a bit too macabre, but I think it sets a solid stage for development of the new character, and of his relationships with the main characters. Now, if you noticed, I did not tell you anything about this man. Not even his name! I did this, so that you can start from scratch, and watch this character grow from nothing into what I ultimately want him to be. (Now that I think about it, I probably shouldn't tell you about my character development strategy, but I really want people to watch the growth of the character, and try to identify with every little quirk he picks up along the way.

Next Chapter: _The New Blade of the Hellsing Institution_


	2. The New Blade

Disclaimer: Neither I nor this story really have any right to the character and many copyright infringements in it. I don't own any part of the Hellsing franchise, nor do I have the many $1 bills that it would take to buy a piece, so I'll just hope they don't come to my house and fine me for it.

FW: So, once again I continue the trend of getting one chapter written down and then completely losing my creative edge, a defecit which usually lasts about half a year. Man, I really am a crappy author. But don't let me persuade you. You decide for yourself, in the next text-packed chapter of Vampiric Lone Wolf Blues. Suspense, shadows, lots of reading, action, some plot and, most imporantly of all, Seras Victoria. By the way, is that really how you spell her name? I've seen about five different variations, but Seras to me is the most aesthetically pleasing, so I'll continue to misspell it for my own selfish reasons.

_**Vampiric Lone Wolf Blues**_

_Chapter 2: The New Blade of the Hellsing Institution_

His eyes opened slowly, groggily, and for a moment, the bed he lay in was not his own. He dreamed himself lying in a coffin, musty and dark. The air was heavy with a dead smell, a thick, choking aroma that faintly reminded him of blood. A mist of blood. He tried to wave the stench away from his face, but only stirred it up a bit. The sickly moist air stung his eyes, making him rub them viciously. As his vision cleared, the macabre deathbed had faded away, and the young exchange student sat up, in what was not a grave but his own bed, in his own dorm, at his own attending university. The morning sun could be seen floating over the edge of the horizon. He kicked off the covers, and sat on the side of the bed, stretching his limbs and bathing in the sunlight. He shrugged off the wavering wisps of dream, and stood up, ready for the day. He padded over to the fridge, and opened it up. Eggs, bacon, milk, and toast. Everything a young man would need for a good breakfast. Before he could even reach for the eggs, though, a small knock at his door caught his attention. He grabbed the milk carton, and hurried over to the door. Taking sips from the jug as he walked, he turned the knob and opened the door.

It was her. Instantly he recognized her face and wished he had kept the door closed. The cherry blonde hair, the crisp little uniform. Why was she here?

"What do you want?"

She only answered with a grin -

"What do you want!"

- exposing those pure white fangs -

"Get out of here."

- looking like an animal -

"Get out..."

- like a hunter... -

"GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!"

Dust-speckled moonlight flitted between the iron bars of the window. Twin lunar sparks could be seen in his eyes. The blood bottle was tilted slightly in his hand, letting small crimson beads drop to the floor. The last of the sun had retreated from sight, an age ago. His former home, only an illusion, yielded to the cold reality of his dungeon. His blood tingled from the touch of the moon, and he still felt warm, despite the cold winter's breeze. His blood was flowing before the full blue goddess. This was what he was now. This is how he would be, until oblivion take him. No beam of light, or hope for him now. No rays at all.

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Seeing the sun when you wake is a small wonder in life. That orange glow off to the east was a telltale sign that there was at least one more day to live. For the creatures of the night, the setting sun, the western rays that slowly faded away were the signal to wake, the messenger of the approaching dark. Deep underneath the ground, though, no windows allowed those golden beams to graze the eyes of young Seras Victoria. It was all the better, seeing as how a bit of sun could sear her flesh. But still retaining some of her humanity, Seras would have like to have that small luxury, the little light that marked the start of evening, the beginning of her night.

She awoke to the pitch black of her coffin, but the dark was a more welcome sight for vampires than any sunlight could be. She groped around the inside of her bed, until she grasped the small lever that would raise the cover of her mechanized coffin. The dusty air of the small space whooshed out into the room, and Seras inhaled a long breath of the cold, dungeon air. The room was by no means homely. The walls were bare, the table in the center of her room was simple, and a bit ugly, but with each passing day, the room became more and more hers. Having this haven, this sort of cave to return to, was comforting in an emotionless way. It was like returning to a fort, where safety was almost assured, after a long day's battle. It wasn't home, but it was all she had, and she could be at least a little grateful that she had such a place to return to.

Seras shifted over to the edge of the bed, and swung her legs over the side. She sat there and stretched her arms around in circles. The night before had been a hectic and long one; Seras had never gone through such an ordeal. She hadn't even received the worst of it. She let her thoughts roam, across the room, through the door, and into the chamber opposite hers that held the newest member of Hellsing's Vampiric Squad. Seras had thought that her last day as a human was a life-changing event, but for the young man housed across the hall, yesterday must have been devastating. Not only had he recieved a mortal wound and survived thourgh vampiric turning, as Seras had, but he also had begun a long life of imprisonment. Sir Integra had seen to that personally. With her hand and a little bit of blessed water, Integra had taken one resurrected soul and transformed it into an unwilling pawn in her war against the freaks. Seras herself had no branding such as that one. She was bound to Hellsing through her Master, Alucard. She had never thought to consider the mechanics of Alucard's servitude to Integra. It was a strange that such an entity as the powerful Nosferatu would succumb to human command willingly. Seras saw her Master's obvious respect for Integra, but she never learned exactly how he could be chained to a human master.

Seras caught the refraction of light against the little blood packet that lay in a bucket of ice. She sighed as she hoisted herself out of bed and took a seat on the one chair in the room. She peeled of the top of the pouch with a nail, and poured the contents into a ceramic bowl. Instead of drinking it, though, Seras just stared at it. Her own crimson reflection stared back up at her, hesitant and uneasy. In a way, she was chained to this drink as any prisoner was to his cell. A necessity of 'life'. If she did not drink, her body would decompose and deteriorate. So logically, she should drink: yet for the longest time, that lingering clump of resistance said "no". Seras had overcome that feeling, that sense of cannibalism. She now drank her fill, and maintained her strength at a level which her Master approved of. Now, by no means was she the hunter that he was, or wanted her to be, but it slowly became easier to embrace herself fully, and allow bloodsucking to become a normalcy.

After finishing a bowl, Seras donned her uniform and exited her room. Today was a routine day at the Hellsing Mansion. With the ever-changing enviroments and situations that the troopers were forced to deal with on a daily basis, the commanders and higher-ups deemed it necessary to exercise a rigorous training course that would prepare them for any contingency, and Seras made the perfect opponent in the exercises. They could train against someone who had all of the strengths and weaknesses that they would encounter in their real sorties. Alucard would not train with the group, for his prided dictated that such games were underneath him, and neither Integra nor Seras bothered to ask him. In fact, Seras was convinced that he would even disobey Sir Hellsing if she ever gave that order, but they would never find out. From the time Seras arrived on the team, she was the soldiers' training dummy; she was a walking, talking, and unforgiving dummy, though, and she held no quarter for anyone foolish enough to underestimate her. Most of the troops were familiar with her ferocity during practice, but the occasional rookie that dared to cross her would end up on the receiving end of an insulted whirlwind.

Seras closed the door behind her and looked forward. Only a wooden door with small lock separated Seras from the simmering rage in that room. The innate sense that vampires had, that ability to feel things, hinted her off to the trouble boiling just a few feet away. Seras couldn't see him, but she knew. She did and didn't see him sitting in his chair, head in his hands, containing his frustration. The third eye: it was like imagining a pencil, the colors and the shape, and seeing it, but not really seeing it. The physical and mental alike could be known by a vampire through this mystical connection with the universe; the thoughts bouncing around the captive's head were nearly audible to Seras.

_Despair._

_Isolation._

_Uselessness._

_Unforgiving and Unforgivable._

_The Mark. The Restraint. Freedom severed._

_The Master. The Dog. The Soldier. Her Eyes. Her Ears. In My Head. STAY OUT OF MY HEAD!_

The silent scream slapped Seras in the face. She literally stumbled backwards from the force of it. A searing pain within her head ripped through, and brought a harsh beat to her temples, but it subsided after a second. She grasped her head with both hands, and tried to shake it off. Her intrusion had cost her clarity of mind, and a little bit of dignity. Fumbling around the hall, she felt defeated like a younger sibling who tried to wrestle the oldest one. She had been tossed aside like a rag doll, and so easily, too. How embarassing.

_How embarassing, indeed. You cross the threshold into another's mind, you should hold your position there, exert your authority. Mind games are not childish ones, Policewoman._

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"I think you grant the boy too much, Walter, without ever having seen what exactly he can do."

"A good point, Sir Integra, but I do pride myself as a good judge of potential."

"I hope you remember that this boy is a student, and has no experience with this kind of work at all."

"Neither did Miss Seras, if you remember."

"She, at least, was a policewoman, albiet a shy and poorly trained one."

"And you think he cannot be trained?"

"He is a caged animal, Walter. You cannot train the wild dog until he is tamed."

"Are you implying that the young man is not fully under your control?"

"Of course he is, Walter. Don't insult me. I'm questioning his willingness to participate, to take the training and our Godly mission seriously."

"Can you not order him to follow?"

"In theory. But whatever I say, he will have elbow room for 'interpretation', and I don't want him endangering anything by finding loopholes in my orders."

"Then bargain with him. Offer him something in return for his loyalty."

"And just what do I offer him, his freedom? He will have only one request, and I cannot and will not grant him release."

"Are you so meek that you cannot assert your authority over your pet."

"Walter..."

"I beg your pardon, Sir."

"...No, your right. If it must be, the iron fist of God and Hellsing will be tightened, to as far as need be. His soul is of Hellsing now, and he acts under God Almighty. He will obey. Walter?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"If he is going to fight, he will need to compliment Seras' style. If one takes the hgh road, the other takes the low road. If Seras is range..."

"Then the young man will be close?"

"Yes. I think weapons similar to those of the priest would be useful."

"Bayonets?"

"Daggers, Walter. Twin daggers of holy silver, blessed in ceremony, named after the angels."

"I understand, Sir. These weapons will be an enjoyable project."

"Well don't take too long on them. He's going to have more. He's going to be a versatile blade for Hellsing. He's going to be a walking armory."

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Seras glanced down the hall; she knew the voice and tone of her Master, and recoginzed a gentle reprimand. She approached him swiftly, and took a seat before him. He had on the signature smug smile he always wore, even before he came into view.

"That kind of bold move was not one I would have expected from you, youngling. It is an odd thing when another of our own is taken into our wings, but you seem especially interested in him."

Seras lowered her head. "Well, Master... I didn't mean to..."

"You sound disappointed, Policegirl."

"Well, I know I shouldn't have, but..."

"You are a vampire, Seras Victoria. Above that, you are of my house. When where you told that another's mind was off limits to you?"

"Well, that kind of intrusion, it's... it's immoral."

Alucard laughed. Demonic and cold, it was not a laugh that would brighten your spirits. Seras got the distinct feeling that he was laughing at her, not at anything that was terribly funny.

"You take what you want, Policewoman, whether it be thoughts, blood, or life. If the victim cannot stop you, then did he really deserve to stop you? Abandon what you perceive as moral, for the execution of freaks could be considered immoral by the same line of thought. Do you see?"

"Yes, Master... I see." Seras did understand. Alucard possessed the instincts of a hunter: what he could take, what he wanted to take, he did. The world was laid down at his feet, and he was one with the will to pick it up. It was an admirable trait, Seras thought, but sometimes his style was just a bit too harsh for her, and sent shivers down her spine.

"If you wanted to know what he was thinking, you either ask it of him, or enter his mind and read it for yourself." Alucard could sense she was still doubtful, but decided to let it go. "On a similar note, I would like to know your thoughts on the matter. Tell me, Policegirl, what do you think of our new comrade-in-arms?"

This question posed quite a puzzle to Seras. After such a long lecture over his theory of obtaining information, her Master would ask for her opinion, not just read it?

"You forget that you are of my blood, and I do respect the property of my own kin."

Seras almost smiled. She was of his blood, and he knew everything she did, or saw, or thought. She was an open book to him; he wouldn't have to ask her anything, except for the fact that he held his own bloodline in some regard.

"Well, Master... It's his pain that catches my attention. In all aspects of the word, he is a prisoner under Integra, and from what I could feel, he doesn't really appreciate it, although that does seem a bit obvious. I wouldn't be too happy to be forced into servitude."

"You serve me."

"Yes, but... I chose, Master. You asked me, and I answered yes. Integra... she branded him, Master. That doesn't sit right in my mind."

"She was stronger than him, and she wanted his being, so she took it. Didn't I just teach you this?"

"Yes, Master, and I understand; I just can't seem to weed out this uneasiness."

"Don't let humanity cloud your judgment. He is vampire, and left roaming the streets, it is likely that he would end up another crazed disgrace, and Integra could not allow that. Besides that, you would have been the one to hunt him down, and I'm sure he wouldn't have appreciated that."

Seras almost responded to his last statement, when she saw that her Master's attention was no longer on her. That last remark wasn't even directed towards her. Seras turned her head, and saw the young man standing in front of his door, staring down the passage at the two vampires. Obviously, he had heard Alucard speaking, and Seras wouldn't put it past her Master to intentionally allow the man to hear it. Seras caught the other man's gaze, but he broke contact and proceeded to exit the dungeon. Seras noticed that he had no shirt, and his tattered jeans had been cut down to a pair of shorts. Several thin scars criss-crossed his body, most likely relics from his accident. A large, irregular scar was emblazoned on his back: a flag revealing where he had been impaled. Seras could not see the sealing figure on the front, but she couldn't keep her mind off it. It was Integra's brand, and Seras couldn't help but wonder what powers it afforded Integra.

"By the way... I believe my Master wants to speak with you, young one. It's best you not keep her waiting."

Seras nodded to the aged demon, got up, and followed the coarse figure up the stairs to Integra's office.

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"I hope you fully understand the situation and the law under which you serve."

"You mean, as a slave?"

"I don't appreciate that kind of tone. You will not use it again."

"..."

"You are here because you cannot be out there. You and I are put in undesireable positions."

"And just how is this undesirable for you?"

"I'd rather you never even existed."

"..."

"Since we cannot escape this fate, we will cope, and work together to make the best of it."

"I will not be a pawn for your voodoo games."

"Don't insult the nature of my work."

"..."

"Let me make this clear. You are under my direct orders whether you want to listen or not. You are now uncontrolablly compelled to obey my every command. I will not tolerate any smart-ass loopholes. I forbid it here and now. You are to cooperate with the agents I place you with, particularly Miss Victoria, who will be your team leader. Don't place her or the institution's well-being at risk. Do I make myself clear?"

"...Crystal..."

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Seras stood before the portal to Integra's office. She faced the towering double doors, two great oak giants with a glossy finish and ornate figures carved into them. After following them around a bit, Seras was able to make out a mural of the Devil's battle against Heaven. Of course, the angels of the Lord were shown to be triumphant, but she found it a tad ironic that the angels being employed to carry out Integra's "Holy" missions were creatures that could be kin to Lucifer and his demons. Seras didn't consider herself an angel, by any right, but she did find the analogy appropriate.

Seras made to open the door, but she stopped short when she caught wisps of the conversation going on inside. Integra, of course, along with the newcomer, were inside talking. After a few seconds, Seras concluded that it was Integra doing the talking, and he was simply listening. Or maybe just pretending to listen. In his situation, Seras would think that he would have nothing to do with anything of Hellsing, but under Integra's binding spell, he was chained here. The intensity of the words that were being thrown from behind those doors was almost like a scent. Seras could sense the tension, the quarrel between human and vampire, master and slave, holy and damned. Although Seras had been ordered to report, she was extremely reluctant to even approach the doors again. It wasn't anything she would be pleased to interrupt. But still... Seras grabbed the handles, and almost pulled, but she stopped herself. _Just a bit more. I can wait unti they're done... No, I need to suck it up and report in._ She calmed herself, and again pulled...

... Just as the man pushed the doors open. He came stormed out with full intent to immediately retreat as far away as possible from Integra. His goal was not to be so immediately reached, though. He came face to face with Seras, and halted just a foot away from her. She took a good, long glimpse at him. His hair was a mess, sticking out in every which way. The tattered remains of his clothing did little to cover his scarred body, and Seras again laid eyes on the sealing pentagram that had shackled this young man. His face was contorted in anger, and his eyes burned with hate and aggression. The same anger echoed from his mind. But through all that, Seras could still see something else. There was a passive reluctance sifting within him. His eyes reflected a piercing sadness and frustration along with the lothing and fiery resistance. He simply glared at her, and sidestepped away, back into the dungeon where he might find momentary peace.

"Seras." The voice of Sir Integra of Hellsing floated out from the lofty entrance, and Seras pushed aside all thoughts of the young man as she approached her other Master in an informal formality.

"Sir."

Integra couldn't help but cover her mouth to stifle a small smile. Seras' mannerisms where always peculiar to her, not crisp, but not disprespectful, either. It was a reflection of her personality, Integra would have to suppose. She managed to regain a poker face and continued on.

"You have of course been aware of our new friend's prescense?"

"Yes, and of his... disdain."

"Well, that is a bit of a concern for all of this Institution. A rebellious soldier is undesirable, and his status as a vampire only compounds the situation."

"Forgive my rudeness, but I was under the impression that that was the problem in the first place."

"How true. It is difficult, extremely difficult to figure out just how to deal with a vampire. We have of course adopted the common practice of exterminating them, but only those who have commited crimes against humanity. _Impure souls of the living dead._ As far as we know, this man was a victim, not a trespasser, so we cannot so easily dispose of him."

"So we keep him."

"That is an undesirable option, Seras. If he were a willing participant in our cause, then this whole mess would be non-existant. I would rather be his leader, rather than his keeper. But... we are reduced to little choice. We must 'keep' him, for the general public's sake, but it would be a gross offense in itself if we just chained him up for an eternity. And of course, he would be found. Of that I have no doubt."

Seras knew what Integra was referring to. The incident so many years ago, when Integra stumbled upon the decayed Alucard. And that was just by accident. When Hellsing was all said and done, and a curious treasure hunter came snooping around the basement...

"So he is an unwilling participant in our mission, then?"

Integra sighed. "That is how things have shaped up to be. And what makes it even more difficult is another matter which has come into our knowledge." Seras' ears twitched at the prospect of new information. "It appears that our Catholic counterpart, Iscariot, has not been idle these past few months. Since our heated conflicts as of late have not gone as well for Section XIII, they have taken the liberty of increasing their own fighting force significantly, by anointing another high-calibur warrior."

"Another?" Seras' jaw tensed. She had never had a pleasant run-in with Iscariot. In fact, she has always received significant wounds from engagements with a certain individual, a warrior-priest of a feral and dangerous nature. "Anderson?"

"Another similar to Anderson. A regenerator. A paladin. A holy warrior blessed by the Pope, and made for a single job. To wipe the earth clean of the heathens and the unholy. Alucard, being the surest one in Hellsing to perform such a mission, will try and discover when and where the secret ceremony will be performed. After all, they would not want their new soldier dead before he could ever defend himself."

Seras lowered her eyes. This was new territory for her. Not only did the newcomer add tension to the atmosphere, but the fact that Integra would release such information to her indicated how much Integra had begun to trust her.

"What would my assignment be then, Sir?"

"Very simply, you are in charge of our new agent." Seras' eyes widened. "You have, until now, acted as a solo operative, but if this young man is going to be a part of our organization, he cannot be left alone, and you would do well to have a teammate, seeing as how you are not so experienced as Alucard is."

Seras nodded. She understood Integra's reasoning, although it still made her uneasy to think that Integra would give her this much responsibility. She bowed to Integra. "Understood, Sir." Integra gestured her away, dismissing her from the meeting. Seras quickly exited the room, leaving Integra to contemplate the situation alone.

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Seras leaned against the wall of the Hellsing Mansion, and sighed a deep sigh of burden. All of this new information, about the new vampire, the new regenerator, and her own increased responsibilities had a lump in her throat the size of London, and she couldn't quite stomach it. So much had been thrown at her at once. She looked up to the night sky for comfort, and found it in a full moon, wispy behind a thin veil of clouds. The solemn moonlight was like the sun to her skin, cool where sunlight was warm, but soothing just the same.

She relaxed in the still quiet, when her drifting mind came to realize another prescence nearby. It was the young man. He was close. Seras opened her ears, her nose, and her mind, and followed the trail of his being up onto the roof. He too, was enjoying a blue-moon's midnight. Seras got up from the wall, and made her way around to the side, where a ladder was set up, leading straight up top. Seras climbed up, and before she completely mounted the roof, she got the boy's attention with a whistle. He cocked his head to the side and stared at her.

"Do you mind if I join you?" He took a long time in answering. He blinked a few times, as if judging her intentions, but eventually his suspicisons subsided, and he waved her over with his hand. She hopped up onto the roof, and took a seat beside him.

For a long moment, neither said a word. They both stared into the sky, watching the clouds pass in front of their moon. It was hard to think of something to say, considering the situation they were in, but Seras resolved herself to say something that might at least be taken as a friendly gesture.

"I don't understand what you're going through, never having gone through it myself, but I would hope that there might be some way to... make the whole thing easier."

He snickered and turned away, brushing aside her suggestion, but after a moment, he looked back at her. "Maybe you're right, but that doesn't make the whole prospect of warming up to my slaveholder pleasing."

"I wouldn't expect it to, but... what I'm trying to say, is that maybe, between us at least, there would be so much animosity. We are going to be working together. It would be easier if we were on... better terms."

The young man focused himself, and really looked at her. She was extremely nervous in trying to talk to him, to be friendly. She had drawn up her knees to her chest, and was hugging them tightly. Her eyes, which were peaked over her kneecaps, were distant and timid. She was fidgety, and trying not to make eye contact with him. He lowered his eyes in embarassment at causing her discomfort, and picked up the conversation.

"Well, I don't want you to worry, Miss..."

"Seras. Seras Victoria."

The young vampire extended his hand. "I'm Victor Saint Walker."

Seras, noticed his gesture, and returned the handshake with a small smile. "Saint?"

Victor nodded. "It was my mother's maiden name. My name before that was Victor Luis Walker-Saint, but when my father died, my mother had my name changed to 'Saint Walker', in order to honor my father. My friends jokingly call me Saint because of that."

"Saint... Well, it's a unique name. You don't see alot of that kind of naming here in England."

"Seras... That isn't quite a common name either, is it?"

"I don't think so, but I don't know where it comes from. It's certainly not as interesting as 'Saint'."

"Yeah, but Victoria's a pretty name."

Seras grinned. They left it at that for a while, and let the tense atmosphere melt away. Seras was beginning to see that it would be possible to get along with Saint, if only she could continue to identify him. Integra had alienated him, so to work together, Seras would have to integrate him into the Hellsing way of life. It wouldn't be easy, but by just talking to him, Seras felt more comfortable in his presense.

"So we'll be working together, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm."

Seras shot him a puzzled look. "What does that 'hmm' mean?"

"It means that I'm thinking. I wonder how easy a set-up this will be."

Seras took in his response, mulled over it a bit, then stood up. She walked over to the edge of the roof, and was about to descend, when she twisted around, and shot the bewildered Saint a toothy smile. "It'll only be as easy as you make it out to be. I look forward to working with you." And with that, she hopped down the ladder, and went back inside. Saint was left to consider her offer.

_Work with her, huh? It'd still be giving in to that blonde slavedriver, but... If it was with Seras, I think I could stomach a bit of work._ He sighed, and looked on past the horizon, imagining his home, across the mighty Atlantic. _I still don't deserve this. This is cruel, and unusual, and completely unnecessary. Do they think I'm gonna end up like some crazed animal? It's insulting._ Saint thought back to Seras. _I guess... I have no choice. I'll play along for now. It shouldn't be too hard, working with her._

Saint set his resolve to play the fool, and see how the story unfolded. Of course, desire for his home and homeland still lingered within his heart, but that goal was far and hazy. It would take some work to win the smallest freedom, but if he could get back what he had before the bite, or even part of that life, then it was worth it. Maybe, by working with these exterminators, he could learn something useful. Possibly even a way to escape the soul grip Integra held over him. But whatever the case, his decision to participate would set the tone for the future to come. The conflict would be fierce, and the path would be tough to follow, but at the end of his road, possibilities lay boundless, and upon reaching the end, he need but reach out and pluck the fruits of his labor. As for now, though, he would simply have to wait, for time would be the factor, the catalyst for the formula, the instrument for this somber song.

AN: Allright, allright, now we're getting somewhere. If I could finish this thing by the end of my senior year, I'll be a happy man. So, for all those who support me, please continue. I'm gonna need every ounce of mental constitution I can muster to keep these fingers flying. Criticize me, I need it! I need feedback. Call me a dumbass, I don't care. I want this story to mesh, to work, to end strong, so that I can say "Holy Crap, I did that." Oh, and Mexico rules. VW, represent.


	3. Lightning Storm

Disclaimer: Is this thing really necessary? I mean, such a pain in the ass to say over and over, "It's not mine", "I have no right", blah blah blah. Disclaimer formula for headache. But you know, I guess you can have fun with it. I mean, it's a chance for me to just... say whatever. People don't read this... do they?

Oh, and this story's illegal. I have no right to write it. Ha. Right to write. Write to right...

FW: WHOOOOOOOO, college! Ok, so, this time I'm strapped in. I've had my boiled eggs, my carrot sticks, and my Oreos. Mmm, the breakfast of champions. Brain food in full effect, ready for word crunching. Let's see... Well, in today's episode, we get to see a real action scene! An epic showdown, six-shooters at the ready, only one will walk away... get ready to draw. Actually, very little use of the firearm in this chapter. Instead, our newfound character Saint will make his stage debut, with what I hope is a first in a handful of increasingly well-written battles. It's always tough for me to sequence and literate action, but here it is, in...

_**Vampiric Lone Wolf Blues**_

_Chapter 3__: Lightning Storm_

The snap-crackle whip of a lightning bolt struck down across the London landscape. Static fizzed in the air, and the dead silence following the blast was only an invitation for more. From the tallest tower in the city, one could see the scattered flashes of this high-powered storm. No rain had come, though. The dense clouds rolling across the sky were rough, jagged, and menacing, but lacked the dark and murky substance of a raincloud. It made excellent weather for a vampire, but it also meant that the electricity that touched down would be that much more powerful, without a wet conduit to the ground.

_This is nuts. I can't believe I'm standing here. What am I doing here? Why can't I leave?_

The light from the frequent sparks could be seen reflected off of the jagged edge of the silver blade. Irregular in it's shape, it looked like a serrated tooth, ready to bite down at a moment's notice. It's twin, being held in the other hand, was a bit longer, a bit smoother, and it held a curve to it that almost made it seem tame. The two were a rag-tag match, but it is not the weapons that make the warrior great. It is the wielder that makes his arms legendary.

_Three months ago... I would have never thought this sort of thing existed. All of the cloak and dagger bullshit... It's an excuse to satisfy a power-hungry wolf. I can't believe I'm a part of that. I refuse to cooperate._

His hair clung together at the ends, giving his jet-black wild head the appearance of dreadlocks. They waved in front of his eyes, to and fro, hazing his vision. He didn't bother to brush his locks away. They only provided more cover. As if he could hide now. Standing alone, in the dead of night, on a desolate bridge, in an abandoned sector of the town. There couldn't be a less populated area anywhere. Just the two of them. Staring each other down. He tried to sink deeper into his disheveled mop.

_She told me I couldn't win. That this man, this human... is more of a monster than me. I find that hard to believe, but... I won't back down. She is counting on me, after all. Who would I be to just run away? As if I had a choice, anyway... His blood smells good. His flesh is soft. He's only human. How hard could it be?_

He crouches, ready to spring on his prey.

_He's mine._

And Saint bangs his blades together as a gesture of war, and charges at his enemy.

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­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Earlier

A mellow little piano tune flitted out of the radio. Saint thought he recognized the artist and the song, but besides the fact that it was blues, he couldn't quite identify it. Graceful, rolling, and thick with skill, it brought a temporary peace to his wandering mind. The weak red rays peeking over the horizon were a bit too much to look at directly, but the tint that the sky held was soothing, and Saint couldn't help but savor in the glow.

A commotion began in the courtyard, and Saint glanced down to see what it was. An armored car had just pulled in through the large iron gate, and come to a screeching halt in front of the mansion entrance. The double doors burst open, and a troop of Hellsing soldiers crossed the threshold out into the evening, with Seras, the odd 'man' out, covering the rear of the group. They piled one after the other into the car, and after Seras had finished out the loading, the door was closed, and the transport took off, making it's way with great speed into the heart of London. To any bystander, it was an exciting thing to watch, although no bystander ever saw. To Saint, however, it was becoming routine.

The second month living at the Hellsing Institution brought nothing but a sense of resignation. It was a new experience getting used to a brand new lifestyle, especially one so radical as this one, but with the second month winding down to a close, nothing new was brought on. It was the same as the previous month, only without the novelty of it all.

The sunset was dwindling off to the west, and Saint held his eyes as steady as he could towards the horizon. He could handle that small amount of light, but hardly anymore. It made him sad to think that he could no longer enjoy basking in the summer sun, as was once one of his favorite things to do, back in his own country, so each drop of the golden sun he could get was priceless to him. Still extremely young as a vampire, he willingly retained many of his human thoughts and perceptions, and the sun as a virtue and not a vice was one of them.

As the last sliver of sun fell over the edge of the earth, he raised his blood-red bottle in toast to the stellar entity. His drink was just another becoming shift in his way of life. It was all that could sustain him, but it filled him fully and completely. Seras had described the process of becoming accustomed to blood as very difficult, but that adjustment had come relatively easy to him. Maybe it was because he was not so childish as she was that she thought blood as squeamish and nauseating, where as he merely thought of it as another drink, albeit strange and a bit unnerving at first.

All of these were signs that he was fitting more and more into this quiet lifestyle. Maybe it wasn't so bad. After all, it was almost like retirement. Keep in shape, 'eat' healthy, stay informed of current events. It was just that... for Saint, it was the fact that he was bowing down to the will of Integra. She wanted to keep him down, keep him quiet, whereas he had come to London to travel, to experience, to live. And, ironically... he had died.

So, slowly but surely, he went through the motions, trained with the humans, trained with Seras, and researched throughout the library of the Hellsing Mansion almost everything there was to know about vampires, and demons, and holy powers. He slowly developed his own new potential, his heightened senses, his new physical abilities, and very recently had started practicing the mystical abilities that he had seen Alucard perform. Teleportation, transformation, disengagement of the body, illusion, and other things among those. He had received his signature weapons from Walter the Butler, two daggers bearing angelic names and blessed blades, Remiel and Duma. Remiel was the Angel set above those who rise, and Duma was the Angel of Silence, he found out after a bit of reading. Maybe they had significance, those two names, maybe not, but whatever the case, they were fitting. The blades themselves were a silver alloy, for durability, and the edges were lined with a mixture of silver and mercury, giving them a soft, piercing quality. The handles were engraved with layers upon layers of angelic symbols, holy incantations, and prayers. Walter had assured Saint that the powers within such writings were subtle, but potent. Perhaps, but Saint had yet to feel such power in those blades.

It was the life that had been thrown into his lap. It was not such a bad life. He was treated fine, and he lived a relaxed life, and he was able to keep busy, but... at this point in his life, he was expecting more. Before his...accident, he had been preparing for a stint of travel, and London had only been the first of a series of places which he wished and was going to see. However, London had become his home, and who knew of the people he had left behind, in contact and in race. London was the resting place of the human Victor Saint Walker, and the birth of an identity-lacking being with the name of a dead man. A strange conundrum, but Saint was used to it. He was a vampire, and as he bore the semblance of a young student ready for great things, he felt unfulfilled. But these were the thoughts he had everyday, up here, and as the lays rays of sun were drawn in below the horizon, he downed the last of his meal, and rose from his perch to enter back inside the Mansion. His day had just begun.

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"So you see, our move has been matched. I firmly believe that this new conscript will be raised in response to our own recent acquisition."

"How arrogant of them. I don't see how they think that any human, no matter how 'blessed', could be considered an equal to one of my brethren. It's insulting."

"Which is why I am giving you leave to take care of the matter. No matter how insignificant he may be to you, a regenerator with the potential to be anything like Anderson is a threat, and it would be prudent to take him out before such a task becomes impossible. Strike him in his infant stages."

"Yes, how prudent. So, I have explicit permission..."

"You have explicit orders to hunt down and terminate this new regenerator. You may use any means necessary... within reason."

"Within reason?"

"I'll leave that to your discretion."

Alucard flashed that devilish smile of his, the feral grin of a wolf, and exited Integra's office.

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Seras had had a long night. She had left early on an extended drill out in the middle of nowhere, leading a group of trainees on a mock-stakeout. It wasn't that taxing on her, but it was incredibly time consuming. Compounded with the fact that she had to lead a bunch of inexperienced rookies, half of which wanted to sleep after the first hour, and all it meant for her was a major headache. _God, if this is just a fraction of what Integra has to deal with... I don't even want to know._ Finally, the target arrived in the specified zone, and Seras was able to rally her squad and neutralize the target with relative efficiency.

After the training exercise, Seras didn't even get a chance to get back to her room and rest, for she was place on patrol duty for the night, which meant she was to walk around in plainclothes uniform and watch for any vampire-related activity for the rest of the night. It usually wasn't too bad, just a report here and a sighting there, usually of vampires that weren't doing anything...yet. However, within half an hour, she caught wind of a vampire-related murder that had the cops attention. She followed sirens and cop cars until she reached the crime scene.

By the time she got there, the first wave of officers had already left, and the follow-up investigators were slowly combing the scene, like on TV. Unlike TV, Seras had a sneaking suspicion that they wouldn't find much. Instead, she placed herself in the mentality of a homicidal-vampire on the run, and it wasn't hard to figure out that he had taken to jumping rooftops to evade the authority. Seras climbed to the top of an old apartment, and scanned the area. There were so many places he could have gone... Seras closed her eyes, and stretched out her senses, trying to pick up on anything the criminal might have left behind. Scent, clothing, blood most likely. Maybe she would even be able to pick up on his mental activity, if he was still close by. She opened her ears. Nothing. She focused her mind. Nothing. She exhaled and then inhaled, taking in recent scents.

There. She could smell the trail of blood in the air from where he had passed, and without hesitating, she took off running. It was a strange feeling, using her senses to hunt like this. Every time she did it, every time she picked up on a target, she felt a rush, like she was being drawn towards the danger of it. To know that you were stalking a target that didn't know you were stalking it... to peek out of the shadows and not be seen, to sneak up and not be heard, and finally to make the capture, was a process called hunting, and every time she did it, Seras enjoyed it more and more. _Maybe this was the feeling that my Master avidly describes all of the time. The thrill of the hunt. It's part of our nature, he says, to hunt. I didn't believe him, but... every day I can see more and more why he says it. At least, I think I'm beginning to see._

Seras closed in on the vampire, as she knew because the scent was growing stronger, and finally leapt off of the final building, into the alley where the vampire lay. Literally, where he lay, dead, in a pile of silver dust. Someone had beaten her to the end. What's more, this someone knew of the target's nature, which was an unnerving thought. It meant that there were people involved in this incident who had access to such knowledge, and there were very few organizations around nowadays who could know such a thing. Aside from that, there were fewer still who were involved directly with the supernatural, and the group who stood out the most in Seras' mind was... _Section XIII, Iscariot. With that psycho Anderson._

Seras took her eyes away from the scene of the crime, and extended her senses to the surrounding area. If it was a holy man that had done this, he might still be in the area, and if it was Anderson... then Seras was going to have a hell of a time. Finding no one nearby, Seras only took a moment to decide to radio in for support. A squad of Hellsing specialists would be able to thoroughly investigate the surrounding area, for the attacker, and clean up the mess before the human world found any indication that the supernatural had occured. Remembering that Iscariot was employing a new warrior, Seras decided that it would also be prudent to summon Saint to the area. She wouldn't be able to handle a regenerator alone, even a rookie, and if it was Anderson...

A crack of lightning snapped Seras out of her thought process. The skies had darkened in the few minutes she had been investigating. Clouds had floated in, smudging up a clear, moonlit night. _How sad. The moon was comforting._ Seras regained her composure, and picked up her cell phone.

"This is Seras... yes, there's been a murder, freak-related... yes, I found it's remains... yes, dead... no, I don't know who, but I suspect... that's why I called. Send backup... well, if it's Anderson... I know there's another one... I'll check the area again then. And if I find one... I'll need Saint... fine, have him on standby... yes. Seras out."

Seras breathed a sigh, and leaped down from her perch. The Hellsing squad that was on its way would not be able to find her on some random roof, so she decided to head out into the street, and see if she could figure out where the holy man, which ever one he was, was. She smelt the air again, but there was no trace of the killer. She couldn't hear anything, but with the increasing rumble of distant lightning bolts, and the occasional snap-crackle of a near one, she doubted she would be able to hear anything. Instead, she reached out with her sixth sense. Tuning out the physical world, she... "listened" for a prescense. Like sonar, she pushed her sense outward until she detected life. Nothing, nothing, she couldn't sense anything. She pulled it back, and decided to just wait for backup. "After all, if it is Anderson..."

"Wha' about Anderson, lil' lady?"

Seras' spine felt like the lighting had just run down it. She felt cold, colder than ever. If she could turn any paler, she would have, and she could even feel her eyes dilate. That voice... that accented foreign voice... it was the voice of death, of oblivion to her. It was the voice of Father Alexander Anderson, Paladin of Section XIII of the Vatican.

Seras flexed her hands, but couldn't even bring herself to move her eyes. _Oh my God... This can't be happening. I need... I need to call Integra. She'll know what to do._ With shaking hands, she fished her cell phone out of her pocket, almost dropping it in the process. She had to flip it open twice, because it wouldn't open the first time. She almost misdialed the number, twice. But she managed to punch it in, hold her phone up to her ear, and wait.

"Aww, come now. Don' go callin' fer yer mommy. Stay, an' play wit me, lil' girl!!!"

That got Seras' attention. She swallowed the gigantic lump in her throat, and swiveled her head slowly, ever so slowly to the left. She closed her eyes, until she was facing him dead on, and opened. There, on the other side of a bridge spanning the canal, was Anderson. All cloaked in white, smiling, snarling really, the brief flashes of lightning reflecting from off of his glasses. All the while, the phone rang, and Anderson stared Seras down. She couldn't move a muscle. It was to her blessed relief that Integra answered once again.

"Yes, Seras, what is it?"

"..."

"Seras...?

"... It's... It's... Anderson."

"Where? WHERE!?"

Anderson smiled, and another crack of electricity silouhetted his tall figure.

"Time ta sleep, lil' girl... Ahahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

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Saint had been sitting on the roof for hours now, waiting for his call. His blades, Remiel and Duma, hung off of an intricate shoulder holster, that had many more slots to fill. The only addtional weapon he had recieved was an original, handmade copy of an old Colt Peacemaker. Modified, of course, by Walter to be far more reliable, powerful, and modern. There were eight bullet chambers, instead of six, the gun was incredibly large, a mix of titanium with a bit of steel for certain parts, and a beautiful chrome finish that shone so bright Saint could see his nose hairs in it. He had it loaded, and enough bullets to reload about four more times.

Integra had ordered him about two hours ago to stand on call, as there was reason to believe some holy man was out on the prowl. Saint didn't understand the details, but from what he gathered, there was a secret hitman brigade that went around and killed vampires for the Pope. Sounded like a load of bullshit to Saint, but he complied with Integra's orders and got dressed for a night out. Whatever Integra said, Saint was not going to wear the god awful uniform that was waiting for him when he returned to his room earlier that day, and so he simply switched the Hellsing seal from the jacket to one of his own leather jackets, wore that over a black ribbed shirt and a pair of cargo pants, slipped on the boots (because he did like the boots they gave him), and went up on the roof to await the radio call. But so far... nothing.

_Just great. I look forward to a peaceful end of the night, just to get a glimpse of the sun, and they stick me out here, and have me sit around doing nothing. The night's ugly anyways, with the moon gone and all. Although that lightning storm look pretty cool. No rain, either. Must be some heavy stuff..._

"Saint!" The walkie-talkie at his hip blasted his name, and he snatched it up in frustration.

"Yeah, what do ya want?"

"It's Anderson. The Paladin is there, in London, with Seras. She need backup, but Alucard is far out in Vatican City, investigating, and it will take some time for him to come back. We need you over at the Baron Shiel Bridge that runs over the Southeast Canal, now!"

"Is that an order, boss?"

"... I swear, if you don't get moving in two seconds, you're going to be sucking on Alucard's hand cannon, and I don't mean his gun, so unless you want to eat silver for the rest of your unnatural life, you get your sorry ass over to the bridge. That is an order!"

"... Yes, sir. I'm on my way."

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Seras had worked up enough nerve to stand straight up and face the approaching Anderson. She had put her phone away, and rested her right hand on her pistol, which was on the inside of her left vest pocket. She still hadn't said anything to Anderson, and she definitly hadn't stopped shaking. Seras just... waited, unmoving, trying to keep Anderson from attacking. Fortunately, he loved to talk, to threaten and to taunt, and all he needed was an ear to keep on going. Until he got bored of that and wanted a response. Or, maybe he just really wanted to kill.

"Well, missy, I'm gettin' tired of waiting. I'm hungry for demons, an' your gonna make quite tha feast. Hehehe..."

Seras choked on her own breath. _Oh God, what do I do? I need... I need to fight back. I am a vampire, after all, and although I'm without my cannon, I can still do damage._ Seras mentally counted to three, and wrested her pistol out of her vest, took a stance, and pointed it directly at Anderson's head.

"Don't move, Alexander Anderson."

"Hehe. Oh, what a threat! I'm shakin' in me boots. Ahahaha!"

"Grrr..."

"Listen, lil' vampire, Ah've got no keen intresten in ye. Ye just a lil' grunt. Ah've beaten ye before, an' I'll do it again. An' this time, ye've got no precious Alucard ta come flyin' in here an' ruinin' tha party!"

Seras tightened her grip on her gun. Anderson was still approaching, but it was at a rather slow pace. Taking his time, savoring in the moment. She knew he could attack at anytime he chose, so she made a decision. She closed her left eye and took careful aim. She wasn't aiming to kill, because she knew she couldn't kill him with only what she had. Instead, she aimed at his thighs, and hoped that she could at least slow him down by knocking him down, and making him wait until his wounds regenerated. She aimed... aimed... and fired.

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BANG, BANG, BANG... BANG BANG!!!

Saint heard distant shots, and he quickened his pace, weaving through streets and alleys at incredible footspeed. He remembered well where he was going, but the shots helped to confirm his direction. It wouldn't be long before he reached the battle.

It was a rush, to be running head on into a fight. The thought of blood and gunpowder and steel made his fangs drop and his mouth water. He was ready for the fight, as ready as he ever was going to be. Integra had warned him about Anderson. _He's invincible, at least to you. Don't try to win, just try to stall until Alucard shows up._ That's what that bitch had said to him, but he was going to prove her wrong. He was the vampire, and Anderson was only human. Saint believed that he could win it himself, and he wouldn't let old Alucard take all of the fun. If this was going to be the only excitement he ever got... then he was going to make it sweet.

As he rounded another turn, he heard more gunshots, closer now. As he ran, and ran, and a minute or so passed, he thought he could hear... laughter. A maniacal laughter coming from what must be that bastard Anderson. _Well, fine. Time to let him have what's what._ And as Saint rounded the last corner, he saw the back of a white-clad man, holding a pair of bayonets, advancing on Seras, who was clear across the bridge. He could see that she was terrified, and cowering before the large man.

Saint positioned himself on the end of the bridge, remembering that he could not cross the running water of the canal, unholstered his Colt, pointed it at the head of the priest, and yelled.

"Hey, Anderson!!!" And he waited... but he didn't have to wait for long.

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Seras unloaded another round of shots into Anderson's legs. He collapsed once again, but quickly got back up, and the bullets were forced out by his regenerating flesh. Anderson flashed Seras a smile. "Nice try, but ya doin' it all wrong!" Seras cowered at his war cry, and began taking steps backwards. She was in shock from the terror. She knew it was the end. This would be the last moments. Backup hadn't come. Alucard hadn't come. And Saint...

"Hey, Anderson!!!" Seras heard the familiar voice, and she had never been so relieved to hear that voice then she did just now. Anderson frowned, and turned his head to face the newcomer. Seras peeked around Anderson's large frame, and saw Saint standing there, with what appeared to be a revolver, pointed straight at Anderson's...

_BANG!!! BANG!!!_ The first shot hit Anderson square in the chest, and the second in the forehead, first doubling Anderson over, and then knocking him flat on his back, forcing him to lose grip on his swords, which skidded harmlessly away. This snapped Seras out of her fearful daze, and she took off into the nearest building, and made her way up onto the roof, where she could observe the action safely, and call in again.

Anderson was a bit slower to get up this time around, but as expected, he rose to his feet and picked up his bayonets again. He was just straightening up when shot after shot rang out, and six consecutive torso hits pushed him back into the wall of the building that Seras had run up. Anderson hit the wall, and slid down as if dead. But once again, the bullets fell out, and his wounds closed.

"Now, that's a mite rude don't ya think? Ye best put tha pea shooter away, lest ye get me riled up, and ya wouldn't like me like that."

Saint popped open the cylinder, pulled a handful of bullets off of his holster, and loaded them in, one after another. "Yeah, well, I'm sorry. I've heard all of your horror stories, and they don't scare me." He finished placing the eighth in, and raised the loaded gun up to Anderson's eye level. "So, can it, and die..."

Anderson disappeared from Saint's view, and in a flash, two slices went up and across Saint's chest. It felt like fire, like an unnatural acid was searing the wounds. A crushing slam drove Saint back into the paved road, and a crater was formed where he impacted into the ground. He coughed up blood, and could feel an enormous gash in the back of his head. While the head wound began to heal, the slashes across his torso did not. His weapon had be flung god knows where, and as his vision cleared, he could see the Paladin, whom he now had a newfound respect and fear of, towering in front of him.

"Ah, son, ya've been a good sport, but ya've missed tha most important part... yer just a filthy daemon, and as God's witness, I will slay any tha oppose..."

Saint had tuned out the priest's monolouge, and instead put his focus into his daggers. He envisioned his next few moves carefully, like a chessmaster looks a few moves into the future. The key was that he would need to be quick, extremely quick, to unsheath his daggers and toos them at Anderson. He relaxed, focused on the daggers, on the throw, and on the follow-up. He chose his moment to attack... and flung.

The two daggers twirled in th air. Duma, his smooth, sickle-like blade, hit backwards, and bounced off Anderson's chest. Remiel, his longer, jagged dagger, dug smoothly into the Irishman's chest. Anderson was cut short in the middle of his speech, and staggered backwards. Saint pushed off the ground with his hands, and sprinted forwards. With his left hand, he scooped up Duma as he leapt forwards and landed on Anderson's chest. He yanked out Remiel and with both legs kicked with all his might. Anderson was flung back again, and almost fell over, but caught himself as his regeneration came into effect. Saint kipped up to his feet, and faced Anderson.

There he was, face to face with Anderson. The priest with his bayonets, and he with his daggers, held in reverse grip. The storm continued to grow in the sky, and the eriee scenery created a movie-like air around them. The faceoff held for a few seconds, and finally Anderson spoke.

"Ya startin' ta anger me, kiddy."

"Shut your mouth, old man. I can take you here, anytime."

"Ya think so, kid?"

They held their gaze, steadily, neither one of them blinking. Saint remembered what Seras had said about Father Anderson.

_"You can't win against him. He's got years of vampire-killing behind him, and he's also a regenerator. With his blessed blades and his incantations... there's really not much you can do. So if you ever see him... run."_

_Ha. Run. I'm no coward. If I'm gonna work for this institution... I'm not gonna be the first to flee at the sight of this Irish oaf. Besides... he smells good._

"I'm gonna drink your blood from a chalice, old man."

Anderson just grinned. Saint barred his teeth, crouched low, and prepared for attack.

"Let's do this."

Saint clashed his daggers together, as he sprung forward, straight at Anderson.

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Seras watched with a sunken heart as Saint began his duel with Anderson on the other side of the canal. Saint would step in, stab, parry, move around, and slash in, but Anderson effortlessly knocked away his attacks, and then came in with his own. Anderson's techniques were quick and strong. With each passing deflection, Saint would lose more ground, fall behind in blocking the volley of bayonets, and take a cut to the cheek, or the arm. Then he would back up, circle around, and dash in again, and the battle continued on as such. Slowly but surely, Anderson was winning.

Seras yanked her radio out of her vest and dialed in Hellsing HQ.

"Yes?"

"Sir Integra, it's Seras. Saint has arrived, and-"

"Seras! Is Anderson there?"

"Yes, he is. Saint has engaged with him, but-"

"Dammit! You know as well as I do that Saint won't last the night against Anderson!"

"Yes, sir, but what am I supposed to do? The only person who can stand up to Anderson is my Master, but he's-"

"Seras Victoria!"

"Yes, sir!"

There was a slight pause before Integra spoke. "You are of Alucard's blood, are you not?"

"Yes, sir."

"That means that you are a warrior. You are a soldier with pride. Now, when I hang up, you are going to do your job, and face the enemy. Section XIII is our rival, and for the greivous acts they have committed against us, we are now at war. You let me worry about the backup, Seras Victoria. Just remember, you are vampire. That is all."

"..." The line went dead before Seras could muster up a response. And just like that, she was standing there, alone in a storm, with a heated battle unfolding in front of her. Yes, she was a vampire, but a warrior? She didn't have the heart, that killer instinct...

She could remember that one day. Surrounded by freaks. Nowhere to run. But she hadn't been afraid. It was at that moment when she had turned fear into retaliation. Her instinct shifted from flee to fight. And it escalated. She didn't just defend herself. She went on the attack. She let herself go. She became confident. With each kill she became more excited. Bloodlust and thrist for battle. That was what it meant to be a vampire. To be a true hunter.

Seras stared over at the battle on the bridge. Saint was still galiantly putting up his guard, but his energy was dwindling, and he was more prone to stumbling, to retreating. If Seras didn't do something now, the fight would be over too soon. Backup was coming. Seras just needed to keep Anderson from killing Saint a bit longer.

_Don't worry, Saint. We can make it through this..._

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Saint stepped in low, and delivered another left hook to Anderson's abdomen. His attacks were penetrating, but each wound simply healed over, and Anderson would continue the battle unphased. The Paladin's counterattacks were vicious, and Saint had received multiple gashes in his arms and torso that refused to heal up, due to the blessed silver in Anderson's bayonets. He was losing ground with every second the fight continued on. He needed to end it with a home run blow. Maybe a combination to the head would suffice. He had to set it up right, though.

Saint hopped backwards, giving him space to evaluate Anderson's positioning. Anderson very often kept his blades crossed, and then would charge forward, letting his blades fall down to his thighs, then bringing them across in a scissor-like attack. Saint saw that his best opportunity would be after Anderson unleashed his power blow. He would be the most off-balance, and the most open for attack at that moment.

Saint backed up, and backed up, trying to bait Anderson into a charge, but he simply advanced coldly, not giving Saint the opening he desired. They were moving away from the canal, into the buildings behind them. Saint considered fleeing into them, but then he would lose line-of-sight with Seras, which was important considering she was the one who could call back to HQ. Saint tried taking another step back, but his retreat was cutoff by a brick wall. Anderson had him pinned.

"Hehehe... so, lad, are ya done foolin' around? Cos if ya are, then I'll be finishin' ya off now."

Anderson flipped his blades around in his hands, and advanced in, keeping his guard up. _Damn!_ Saint realized he would have to square-off with him... and there was no chance of victory there. But what could he do? No retreat, and no victory. There had to be another way to survive, if just for a few more minutes...

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Three shot rang out from across the channel, as Seras pulled out her pistol and took aim. Anderson slipped forward into Saint, and Saint found his golden opportunity. Saint kicked Anderson in the chest with all his might, driving him back, brandished his blades, and dashed at Anderson. He came in low, very low, and sliced his sickle across the back of Anderson's left ankle. Anderson's foot gave out, and he fell to his left knee. Saint circled around him, brought his serrated dagger to Anderson's neck, and started sawing viciously. _This is it. I'm gonna behead this holy bastard._ Saint pulled back on his head as he sawed, exposing some inner flesh, and watched as blood oozed from the open wound. His mouth began to water. The lust to kill was electrifying, and Saint began to saw faster. It would only be a few more seconds before...

THUD! THUD! Two bayonets were driven in between his ribs, one nearly piercing his heart. Anderson stood up, his ankle nearly healed already, and backhanded Saint. Saint went flying backwards, and skidded out onto the bridge. Anderson turned around, his neck open but healing over slowly. He looked like a zombie, all bloody and cut, but still moving. His neck finished suturing itself up, and Anderson put on the biggest smile yet. He had won, and he knew it.

"Nice try, daemon, but yer just out of luck, ta' day. Now, I'll be taking me blades back..."

Anderson reached down, and yanked the bayonets out of Saint's chest. The wounds bled immensely, and Saint's vision began to haze. Being so near to running water wasn't helping either, as it weakened him considerably. He was having a hard time even opening his mouth, but he did anyways.

"Take your cough, your bayonets and... and run cough, chickenshit..."

Anderson grinned fiercely, as he brought his blades up for the final blow. The first bayonet hammered down directly into Saint's forehead. His skull split and blood poured out from the gaping hole in his head. The second bayonet came lateraly, and severed the neck completely. Anderson lifted his trophy, still impaled on his blade, and held it to the sky, laughing manaically.

At least, that's what would have happened, had three craters not opened up in Anderson's back. Anderson, already bent over, lost his balance and stumbled down. Saint, seeing this brief opening, dug in and delivered his right foot into the gut of Anderson. Anderson was flung back, tumbled about onto the canal bridge, and came to a skidding stop on his face. He lifted his head up, to see who had shot him in the back.

Saint had propped himself up into a sitting position against the wall, and was finishing taking out the second bayonet. The handles singed his hands as he pulled the blade out, but he managed to remove both swords and toss them aside. The blood poured out of his various wounds, but no vital blows were delivered. He would live to see another day. Saint summoned what little energy he had left, and raised his head to see who had intervened.

There, on the bridge, right in front of where Anderson had landed, was Alucard. His crimson attire flapped in the driving winds as his large black pistol was angled down to Anderson's head. A crack of lightning illuminated Alucard's face briefly, and his sinister smirk could be seen underneath his reflective glasses and jet black hair. His presence had an overpowering effect on the area. Everything seemed... darker now. Like the thinnest of clouds had dimmmed the sun, just a hair. Anyone there who could see the scene as it was, would know who was in charge here.

Saint took in the scene like he would take in a still painting. He wasn't part of it, he was just watching it. Alucard, standing there like a statue, over Anderson's still body. Saint could see Seras on the rooftop, screaming into her radio. _I wonder who she's talking to..._

Just then, as the scene was unfolding in front of him, a bright light shone from the sky, and the swift chopping of helicopter blades descended upon him. Saint looked up, and could see Sir Integra looking down from the open side. Ropes were thrown down, and Hellsing soldiers came rappeling down. They opened up a canvas stretcher, grabbed Saint, and placed him on it. They gave the signal, and the helicopter began to rise, winching Saint up. As he was airlifted away, Saint took one last look at the scene - Alucrad versus Anderson, with Seras watching in the wings - and then blacked out.

AW: Ok, so, college is over, and so is another drawn out chapter. I think I did good, and I promise I will get into it better this time... HAHA, that's what I always say. Well, fans be patient, the next chapter WILL come eventually. Heh, ...he...


	4. Defiant

**AN:** Having just uploaded another chapter onto one of my other works-in-progress (and subsequently receiving about 500 hits in one weekend) I am now motivated to brush the dust off of this piece and get crackin. It's been about 3 years since I've touched this one (the other one sat around for half a decade), and so it is a bit fresher in my mind. It also allows me to put forth the darker tone that I've been tending towards, whereas my other work is an exercise in keeping the mood light. Let's see if I can't finish both of these stories off strong. So once again, after extended hiatus, I bring you...

_**Vampiric Lone Wolf Blues**_

_Chapter 4__: Defiant_

The scars burned for days on end. It was as if his raw skin was constantly being shredded off and doused in sulfur. Just a few days before, he could stand out in the late afternoon hours and relish the slightest bit of sun he could physically handle, the last inkling of his humanity. Solar rays were the enemy now. He would no sooner let even the thinnest sliver of light near his battered body than he would inhale a mouthful of silver dust. His handlers assured him that he would heal in time, that the scars would remain but the bulk of the pain would subside. He knew better than that, though. Like a bad knee or a weak shoulder, he knew these scars would nag at him for the rest of his "life". He already felt the lingering effects from his branding. It was as if his flesh was numb from where that Hellsing dog carved her symbol into him. He knew that no matter how much "healing" was achieved, no matter how far these scars faded... he would always feel them, from here till the end of his days.

He had spent most of the last week writhing in his coffin. Behind the dark and unforgiving wood, he felt his pain dulled, if only slightly. The aura of confinement was unusually comforting. Even while enduring the white hot lashes spreading across his body, he felt safe within the ebony container. And so for days on end, he lay there, gritting his teeth and hissing at every shooting pain that snaked through flesh and bone and blood.

Two weeks passed since the confrontation on the bridge, and Saint's recovery was nearing its end. The pain had, for the most part, passed; what remained were spots and patterns of that eerie numbness, speckled over his skin. He was out of his coffin during the night now, filling up on the sustenance he was provided and skulking around Hellsing mansion, searching out any little diversion that would sate his boredom. Integra had not yet given the ok on deploying him back into the field, or even participating in drills. He yearned to stretch his legs and run, simply run and feel a cool autumn breeze on his face as he moved by light of the moon.

_By the light of the moon… _Saint stopped in front of one of the towering windows of Hellsing Manor. A nearly full moon poured its blue glow inside. He clambered up onto the brick sill and sat in silence, looking out over the yard. _It__ wasn't so long ago that I was enjoying the sun… The light, the warmth… It was all I ever wanted. At the end of the day, after all was said and done… I just wanted to soak it in. My country, my home. My sun. And now…_ His gaze softened as his mood sombered. _Have I really changed so much? That I crave the night and the cold?_ He held his right hand close to his face and flexed it, sensing the power and tension he had so quickly become accustomed to. It was the coiled strength of something beyond human. _Have I become something more than human? Or am I something fallen... what have I retained, what have I lost?_ Simmering rage bubbled from within, and his melancholy gaze tightened into a scowl. _It's not lost... it was taken from me. Stolen. My freedom__, my humanity... I didn't choose to become this, this... doppelganger. I can live with what I have become... but I can't ever forget that it was forced upon me. Ever._ He closed his eyes, and clenched his fist even tighter. _No matter what... I need to k__eep my own counsel. If I am forced to be a soldier in this ridiculous war, then I will keep what parts of me I can to myself. She may own my body... but Hellsing does not own my soul..._

"_**If it makes you feel any better… it gets easier with time."**_

Saint jumped as he heard the soft, female voice echo through his head. The sudden intrusion derailed his train of thought. He scanned the corridor quickly, looking for a possible figure in the shadows. She had to be nearby…

"_**I'm sorry for interrupting your tho**__**ughts… I'm coming up the stairwell now"**_

Saint maintained a scowl as Seras stepped into the hall a few windows down. She was in her civilian clothes, possibly coming out from a patrol similar to the one she was running when they engaged Anderson. Or maybe she had just been taking her down time around the halls as he was. Either way…

"I thought I told you to stay out of my head."

Seras averted her eyes. She couldn't meet Saint's vicious gaze, and even without hearing the echoes of her emotions, one could very easily see that she was shifty, nervous, almost scared. She was still intimidated by his fire, his caustic mannerisms, and after what happened to him over the canal…

"I'm sorry… I wasn't trying to intrude. Your thoughts are just so… loud. I couldn't help but hear them."

Saint squinted at her response, judging her. Her honesty was just as apparent as her discomfort, and although he wanted to rip into her, to turn her away and be alone, he couldn't help but admit to himself that if there was one person in this entire god-forsaken fortress that he couldn't fault, it was her. After all… she had his back against Anderson. She supported him, called in the rescue. She could have chickened out and fled, but she stuck around. She may be a timid girl with the aggressiveness of a lame duck… but she was no coward.

"Didn't your master tell you that you shouldn't apologize for reading others' thoughts?"

"Yes, but…" Seras had no further retort. It was her master's way to constantly remind her of her weaknesses. She was painfully aware of how passive she was, how much his strength and presence dwarfed hers. She was a mere infant compared to him, and that thought, that feeling stuck with her in and out of every mission, every hunt. It was his own abrasive way to push her, to motivate her to become stronger, to grow into the bloodline she was made a part of.

"So you feel weak for not invading my mind?"

"Umm…" Seras looked up. She had heard something in that last question; a curious, inquiring tone. His face was still filled with that same restrained rage, but it was no longer directed at her. "Well yes…"

"Why? Just because HE said so? Is that what you base your worth on?"

"But… That's what I'm here for. To serve, to fight. I need to be strong so that I can –"

"Don't you think standing up to your master requires a certain amount of strength?"

Seras pulled in a small gasp. She was taken aback by such a bold question. She shot Saint a befuddled look, betraying immense confusion. "I could never stand up to my master. He is far too powerful. He could… devour me in an instant."

"That's my point. If Alucard is so great, so strong, so larger than life… Wouldn't even the smallest little defiance require strength in and of itself? Despite his wishes… You maintain a sliver of your humanity. You refuse to give it up."

Seras stiffened, feeling cross at the notion that she would willingly resist the wishes of her superiors. "I don't want to be insubordinate. I am here by my own choice." Her voice softened. "I know your situation is different than mine. You are not here because you want to be. You were forced into this. But if you can work with me, with us, you can accomplish something here. There is no need to be so defiant."

Saint closed his eyes and snickered, a smirk quickly appearing on his face. "Defiant…" He let the word play across his lips. "You and I… we are the epitome of defiant. We defy Iscariot and those who would attempt to put us to the grave once and for all. We defy death itself to remain on this earth. If I have nothing else, if I have no other choice that is my own…." He opened his eyes, and Seras met a gaze of scarlet intensity, betraying the rage that so eagerly wished to escape "…then I will be defiant to the end."

Seras strolled along towards her room, those words echoing in her head. _"Defiant to the end."_ At her core, she was disdainful of such an attitude. As a policewoman, she took an oath to protect and serve. Following orders was always part of the job. She always made an effort to maintain respect towards her superiors, especially towards Sir Integra. Obedience was her credence, and she was proud of her loyal nature, but…

"Defiant to the end." Seras muttered the phrase to herself, tasting the resistance laden in the words. From Saint's mouth, there was power. Fearlessness. An unshaking willingness to turn against the grain, and against authority. She told herself that it was merely his confidence that she admired, but deep down, she wished that her own resolve was as unshakable as his. Saint, Alucard, Integra… each bore their own brand of strength. Compared to them, Seras was a mouse, with a squeak barely loud enough to be heard among the lions. She had made great strides during her time at Hellsing, but secretly yearned to attain the inner primality those three had shown in battles, out in their war. She was a vampire, one of Alucard's kind; she wished to prove herself as much.

Arriving back at her chambers, Seras closed the door behind her, and stripped down to her tank top. The heavy coat she wore out in public was to hide the paleness of her skin, and to conceal her firearms; she much preferred dressing light. Her usual post-patrol meal was waiting for her on the table. The bucket, the bag. That familiar bit of unease creeped up from her gut and attempted to shiver over her skin. "_Defiant to the end._" The words whispered from the depths of her psyche, and she quelled her hesitance. She grabbed the blood packet, tore the corner off with one lethally sharp fang, and proceeded to quickly drain the contents, a single drop escaping her mouth and slithering down her cheek to her peach-pale neck. _ If I'm to be stronger… this is as good a start as any._

Wandering through the dark corridors of the manor, shirt loose, branding exposed, Saint ran his fingers over the cool brick that comprised his prison. With every periodic break in the shadows, Saint slowed his gait, basking in the glow of the moonlight coming in through the glass. As he passed each window, Saint sped up his steps, eager to reach the next little sliver and allow the light to play across his bare skin. Time was irrelevant. He had pushed all other thoughts out of his head. Tonight, he had no other purpose but to revel in what little freedom he had. He refused to keep track of the laps he was taking. Surely he had looped for hours, but he didn't care. The memory of sprinting through the streets of London was overwhelming. The feeling of the hunt, of the wind breaking across his face, of the rolling thunder that sent chills of excitement down his spine; The memory was so fresh in his mind, and here he was, mere steps from freedom, from being able to spread his wings and yet –

The slightest wisp of a shadow caught the corner of his mind's eye. So absorbed into his own roiling mind, he almost missed it. It was the tail of a coat. A long, crimson fabric that danced an inch or two from the floor. Saint came to a halt, not looking back at the figure he had just passed. His fingers still rested on the last brick he had touched, allowing them to play across the aged grooves of the castle wall.

"Is there some rule I'm breaking here?"

Alucard snorted lightly. "Cull your tongue, hatchling. I'll not suffer your impudence as my master would. I'd just as soon smite your tainted bloodline into oblivion."

"..." Saint had no response. He could feel the fringe of a deep darkness on the edge of his words, tinged in the air. For all of his bravado, for all of his posturing and open resistance... There was something within the heart of Hellsing that he truly feared. Behind the barked orders of the master to her pack, behind the facade of the obedient soldier and his weapon, there was something lurking, beyond his vision, beyond the bulk of his senses... There was something that stole the warmth from the air, that put the slightest pressure on his chest. For once, he appreciated Integra. She kept the shackles and the reins on something that should not roam unchained. "What is it that you want?"

"It is my master's wish to inform you that you are to be placed back into active status. Your recovery is sufficient. You will be assigned a new task, and deployed alongside the Policewoman. It is my opinion that you will be satisfied with the assignment."

Saint turned to face Alucard. "And what makes you say that?"

Arms crossed, leaning against the wall, Alucard drew a sharp grin. "Forget stretching your legs… you'll finally get to stretch your fangs."

Saint stood before the desk of Integra Hellsing. It was a room he felt nothing but contempt to be in. Enormous, gaudy, reeking of arrogance bred from authority. An authority received by birth. By virtue of her blood – her achingly sweet-smelling blood – she stood where she did, the blade of Hellsing handed down from on high. The power she manipulated under her fingertips was nothing she toiled for, nothing she worked or bled for, and yet he was compelled to dance the waltz she strung out for him. He held no respect for this puppeteer, he never could. So he made no attempt to hide his disdain, hands deep in his pockets, slouching in his stance. His gaze, hiding none of his rage, was trained on Sir Integra only because it had been ordered to do so. Seras stood to Saint's right, at attention but uneasy. Saint's fire and Integra's icy demeanor filled the room, clashing as their eyes met across the office's desk.

"It is my observation that your recovery has been moving along smoothly." Integra dispassionately sized up her broodling. His grey shirt was wrinkled, carelessly buttoned across his torso. His hair was unkempt, skewed every which way he had tussled it last. He stood before her in a manner unbefitting the stature of Hellsing. He oozed of disrespect and open contempt. He was a tumor on the order she so desperately strove for, and in any other case she would have sliced off such an out-of-place piece; but his unique situation dictated that she suffer his antics, and while he may have been a stain on the image of order she so strove for, Saint had proven that his fury could be redirected away from her institution and unleashed on her unwitting enemies. "Furthermore, you managed to prove both your usefulness in battle and willingness to engage the enemy, despite the fact that you were engaged in a sortie that you had no chance of winning. You held off an elite member of Iscariot long enough for backup to arrive, which is far more than can be said for many that have squared off against the paladin."

Saint crossed his arms but maintained a locked gaze with his superior. His lips curled slightly as the left corner of his mouth raised slightly into a lopsided smirk. "Is that as close to a compliment as I'll ever receive from you?"

"Quite," was the simple reply. "My expectations are for you are to maintain yourself at that level of utility. You will need it for your next assignment, with a target I believe you can actually eliminate."

The smirk quickly dissipated from Saint's face. "One that I can actually - So what was the last one, a test? A joke? A suicide mission!?" His hands unfolded from his chest and slammed quietly but firmly onto Integra's desk. "You keep me alive just so you can use me as a meat shield? You are damn lucky that I am FORCED to be here –"

Integra rose from her chair and met his ferocity across her workspace, her own hands coming down in a thud. "You will perform the tasks I assign you, luck be damned! We sent you there despite the reality that your foe was insurmountable to you because if we didn't, we would be down an agent essential to this operation! And even though I wouldn't shed a tear were you to meet an early demise in your career here, I did NOT send you out to perish! I sent you out to defend and survive, and in that you accomplished your mission. Yes, your life will be in danger while you serve here…" Integra raised her hands up off the desk, clasping them at the small of her back, regaining her normal composure quickly. "- but it was my understanding that you would rather risk life and limb under my direction than the alternative. Was I incorrect in my assessment?" Integra quirked her eyebrow slightly at Saint.

Saint's snarl faded into his trademark scowl, his lips tightening as he pushed himself off the desk. "You have my life and limb because I have no choice in the matter. My cooperation is a completely different story. I am NOT afraid to do this the hard way. So as little as you care about what I think – "

Integra raised a hand to silence him. "In shocking contrast to what you believe, I do care about what you think, to the extent that I care about not having an un-cooperative thorn in my side. I did not send you out to the bridge expecting you die. I sent you out to resolve in an emergency situation, one that was highly dangerous to both agents involved, but one that I believed you were capable enough to resolve. It is never my intent to expend a resource in a wasteful fashion. You are more useful to me alive, and exponentially more useful if you willing to follow orders. Rest assured, I will never send you off to fail. It is a waste of both our times, and I could always simply dispose of you here."

Saint's face was stone as he listened to Integra. Fury raged inside him as he heard her cold attempts to assuage him. Nothing could change the fact that he was stuck here against his will. The idea that he was being "allowed" to be a useful tool to Integra's designs only served to fuel the fire. He was a Hellsing dog on an ethereal leash, struggling to bite the hand that feeds, loathing every nanosecond of it, and yet…

His gaze floated briefly to his left, to the young, cherry-headed policewoman standing ever so silently in the corner, doing her best to be invisible. As ice and fire clashed in the middle of the room, she was simply avoiding getting burned. He caught Seras' gaze briefly, and she inhaled slightly when their eyes met. Saint could almost hear echoes of their last conversation ringing through her head, his shots at her passive nature sending doubts flickering into her thoughts. Her eyes glazed over as he listened to her stomach knot from the unease of trying to match his piercing gaze. But then, softly, another thought clicked in her mind. She tensed, not out of fear, but from forcing that knot out of her system. Her demeanor hardened as she let those lingering doubts flow out, to be replaced by a stoic front he didn't know she had. Seras straightened in her stance, and focused in on his gaze as she pushed his probing mind out of hers. Saint almost couldn't contain a genuine grin as he heard her last lingering self-command before being blocked from hearing her thoughts: _Be defiant_. He let his eyes linger on her a second longer. _Well, at least I have a reason to defy_.

"So… if you've decided to keep me around, then you better have something interesting for me to do… Boss." Saint spoke as he turned back to face his icy commander.

Integra's expression did not flinch, but the cutting ice had subsided from her tone. "I'm glad you see things my way." She took a seat back in her chair. "I'll get right to the point. We've recently obtained some bothersome information that has taken a priority in our operations. It seem that Iscariot is aware of your… 'Recruitment' into our organization." Saint raised an eyebrow at this but did not comment. "Iscariot views us as a serious threat to them and the Vatican as a whole, and having another soldier such as yourself on our team puts them at a disadvantage. As such, our Vatican spies tell us that Iscariot has seen it fit to promote one of their recruits to Paladin status, and add to their own elite force, matching our numbers increase."

"Aww, Iscariot sees me as a threat? I'm touched."

"Quite. Alucard was sent out recently to scout, track, and assassinate the new recruit, but his… high profile nature made it difficult for him to get near the Holy City without raising considerable alarms. Sufficient resistance was raised in time to allow the new paladin an escape of Vatican City, and when they countered by sending Anderson into London, we were forced to call Alucard off the hunt to engage Anderson. Needless to say, both parties are now aware that their opponent has a new recruit, and both are aware that the other is aware. This has become a chess match, a game of maneuvering. Taking out this new agent before he matures into the nightmare that Anderson poses is priority number one as far as I am concerned."

Saint had begun pacing around Integra's office, running his fingers along the rows of old books lining the many shelves decorating her office. "If we send Alucard, they send Anderson. You obviously believe that our security is not tight enough to have Alucard leave unnoticed, so a sneak attack is out of the question, and you also believe that we are too vulnerable to stop Anderson ourselves – " gesturing to Seras as he spoke " – leaving us at a virtual stalemate. And yet…" Saint pulled out one of the many hardcovers and began idly flipping through its pages. "… You have a mission for me?"

"For the both of you." Seras tensed at finally being addressed by her commander during the meeting. "Both you and Seras are relatively young vampires – very young if we are comparing you to your respective masters." Saint's fingers froze mid-page flip. Fresh visions of the femme fatale who had turned him rose briefly to the forefront of his thoughts before he shook them away and resumed his idle actions. "You both are still quite able to tolerate a degree of sunlight for extended periods of time, however taxing it may be. Furthermore, Saint is virtually unknown to Iscariot, and Seras is still a fresh face to them. With Alucard's immense presence setting off every early warning system they have in place, it would be difficult to get him close to the new paladin without encountering resistance that would slow down even him. However, your youth and unformed powers actually give you an advantage in this scenario. You can get close without being detected. You can walk through the streets as normal people, scouting as humans in the day, and hunting at night. I am proposing an infiltration-assassination mission for the both of you. Hunt down this new threat to Hellsing. Find him, smell him out if you must – and cut the life right out of him. Hellsing and the Crown are counting on you to keep this country safe!"

Seras knocked her heels together at that, and with chin held high she let out a loud "Yes, Sir!" Saint finished his mindless page flipping and closed the cover, turning to read the title once more. He allowed that small, sly smile to play up the left corner of his mouth, and with eyes still trained on the tome, he spoke the most affirmative words he had all day – "Sounds like fun."

AN: Once again, I find myself on the barrel-end of distraction. Once again, I feel like I have left a few of you who have written really positive review to my work to wait for years before getting more content. And I feel genuinely bad. But! For the returning readers, I feel that you most likely have forgotten my first few chapters, and so hopefully you get the fresh experience of starting from the beginning all over again! And for new readers…. I REALLY suck at updating in a timely manner, but eventually… EVENTUALLY I WILL GET THIS DONE! In the meantime… Enjoy another chapter of _Vampiric Lone Wolf Blues_


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